"Ask me about the name, and I’ll smile, a quiet answer in itself. What comes after… that’s not for strangers."
Imagine Lyllith’s “freedom” as something bittersweet. She’s not running toward anything, yet, but rather away from a past she doesn’t fully understand. She feels at ease in the desert, as if it accepts her silence, but there's no romanticism in it, just survival. That sense of isolation is both comforting and painful.
She is wary of people, especially those who speak too confidently or make loud claims. Whether that’s trauma or just instinct is something we may discover.
If you were to ask her Where are you from?, She wouldn't answer, she can't answer.
The arrival of colonists on Arrakis feels invasive to her, not hostile, but like the stillness she trusted is being disturbed. It pushes her further to the fringes, where she feels safer. She stays away from strangers.
As for the Houses, she doesn’t fear them but sees them as another machine trying to mold what should not be tamed. She doesn’t know yet if that makes her an enemy of theirs, or something else entirely...
Lyllith finds House Atreides... curious... Their ideals of honor, justice, and stewardship sound noble, almost comforting... but also naive. To her, they speak of duty and loyalty in a world where survival often requires silence and shadows. She doesn’t dislike them, but she keeps her distance. There's something dangerous in believing too strongly in virtue, especially on a planet like Arrakis.
She finds the Harkonnens repulsive, brutal and oppressive, though undeniably powerful. Their cruelty and brute force are everything she avoids in the world. To her, they are a symbol of what happens when power is left unchecked and fed by fear. Their presence on Arrakis feels like a blight, a heavy hand trying to crush the subtle rhythm of the desert by overwhelming force and fear.
And yet... she respects them. Not their methods, but their results. The Harkonnen know how to command, how to survive in their own ruthless way. There’s no pretense in their tyranny and in that brutal honesty, there’s almost... efficiency. Lyllith would probably never align completely with them, but she doesn't underestimate them either. To face them unprepared is to die quickly.
She doesn’t remember much of her childhood, only fragments scattered like sand in the wind. She was around 15 when she ended up on Arrakis. She knows she was born a Bene Gesserit, but not why she was left behind. She have enough experience to survive the basics of the Desert. Whether her mother died, vanished, or chose to abandon her is unclear.
Sometimes, in dreams, she sees a woman’s eyes, sharp, colorful and full of purpose. She hears a voice that cuts through silence like a blade. She calls her Mother, though the name means little now.
She doesn’t speak about her past. Maybe because she doesn’t know it, or maybe because she fears what she might discover if she looks too closely.
All she knows is this: she is alone, unbound, and alive. The desert doesn't ask questions. It accepts. It tests. And in its silence, Lyllith listens; hoping that one day, the dreams will speak more clearly, and that the truth waiting beneath the sand won’t break her.
But Arrakis does not leave its children untouched.
Whatever happens, the desert will shape her... and she, in turn, may leave a mark deeper than she ever intended.